


Move, Party, Fuck Away The Pain

by Lost_in_stars



Series: Monsters And Movement [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Depression (and other mental illnesses), Idiots in Love, M/M, Steve Harrington falls in love really easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_stars/pseuds/Lost_in_stars
Summary: Steve wanted things to go back to normal. To parties, to drinking, to cigarettes and sex and numbness. Now, after the experiences of the upside-down, he felt empty.





	Move, Party, Fuck Away The Pain

Steve Harrington was never one of the kids that could stay still for a long period of time. He was always moving, always ready to go someplace new. Perhaps he took after his parents, who liked to spend less than a week in each location, who owned houses all over the globe and barely used them. Perhaps he was just a restless child. Nobody knew.

And nobody bothered to ask.

Steve was, as his teachers said, a difficult child. It was always hard to tell him off, he would usually just laugh in their face. At merely three years old he practically owned the kindergarten, commanding other kids to do things for him like they were slaves. He adopted several new friends, the closest of which were Tommy and Carol. They never ceased to find something to amuse themselves with, and always tried to impress Steve whenever they got the chance.

At four years old, he answered to the title “King” for the first time. One of the girls in his class – a skinny little kid with bright red hair – made him a crown out of yellow paper and fake jewels. He wore it with pride and refused to answer to anything else except for “King Steve,” and “Your Majesty,” for the rest of the school year.

He always needed to goddamn _move_.

His parents argued in front of him when he was six, usually over the fact that Steve wasn't already thriving in his schoolwork even though he had just graduated kindergarten. “Honestly,” Steve’s mother said. “He’s a kid!”

Whenever his parents argued, Steve snuck out the backdoor – actually, that wasn't true. He didn't _sneak_, he merely walked and his parents didn't notice – and went over to Tommy’s house. The freckled kid was eager to have King Steve at his house, and let him right inside.

Tommy’s parents loved having Steve over. The kid was cute, funny, and had a smile to win over any parent. They made him his favourite dinner whenever he came over, which was nearly every second night. Tommy sometimes asked if he could go to Steve’s house. Steve always said no.

Carol and Tommy began to date when Steve was eleven. He laughed and teased them, sometimes stealing condoms so he could give them to his friends, just to make Carol blush.

Even though Steve didn't have a girlfriend like all the other boys in his grade, he lost his virginity first. He was twelve years old, nearly thirteen, and had finally taken Ophelia up on her offer. He bragged about it for months. Ophelia moved schools after somebody spray painted SLUT on her locker for the fourth time. Steve wasn't sure if he should feel bad about that, but there was no time to worry.

He needed to _move_, he needed to _party_, because it was his thirteenth birthday in a few days time and he would be damned if he was going to spend another birthday alone in his big empty house.

There were too many girls to count after Ophelia. But not just girls. Boys too. A hole was a hole to Steve, he didn't care. He didn't particularly like boys the way he liked girls, but hey, sex was sex and Steve wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

When Steve took people home and brought them up to his bedroom, the house wasn't so silent. He _encouraged _people to be loud. Why be quiet when noise was a rare treat for Steve? He let the house be filled with moans, with screams, to shut out the silence of the absence of his parents. He didn't mind that sex wasn't the best way to fill that void. He didn't care.

He needed to _move_, he needed to _party_, he needed to _fuck away the pain_.

When his parents were home, they had the nerve to act normal. Steve didn't mind it as much as he wanted to. For blissful weekends, the house was loud, and it wasn't from depressed sex. The house was _loud _because his parents were home, which meant love, which meant talking, which meant shopping trips and dinner and fancy parties and he loved them, he fucking loved them when they were home.

Things became even more lonely for Steve after three whole weeks home alone at fifteen years old. People began to notice he was walking or biking to school every day, so Steve began to answer the phone in a gruffer tone. _“Hello?” _He would say, lowering his voice. _“Mr Harrington here.”_

Steve joined the basketball team a few days after his parents finally returned home. He did it to impress his father, but to his dismay and disappointment, his father only focused on the report cards. “What the hell is this?” He had asked in disbelief. “You _failed _English, Maths, _and _Music? _How_?”

“I...” Steve leaned over his fathers shoulder and scanned the card. He had pointed to the results of his sports. “I’m doing okay in sports.”

“Its not good enough.”

_No_, Steve had thought. _Its never fucking good enough_.

He actually turned out to be okay at basketball. The best on the team, in fact. He didn't exactly enjoy it, it was tiring and it _hurt _and the whole thing was so much fucking _pressure_, but he knew if he even failed at basketball then his father might as well kick him out of the house. He wouldn't blame him. Steve was dumb, he was stupid, he was _not good enough_.

Nancy Wheeler had ran into him in the hallway when he turned sixteen. Still the king of Hawkins High and a mega bully, Steve had shoved past her with a growl. “Hey, fucking move it, nerd,” He had said, causing Tommy and Carol to laugh. Nancy, sweet Nancy, with soft brown hair and big blue eyes, had looked at him as if she pitied him.

“Don’t take your anger out on me, Steve,” She had said, her voice smooth like an angel. “Just because you’re failing English.”

It was then that he realised she sat behind him in class, and would always be able to see the hastily scribbled notes from the teachers about tutors, and giant red F’s that sat on top of his page. Speechless, he had done nothing but stare at her as she walked away.

Disappointed, Carol and Tommy began to walk away as well.

At the last moment before she turned a corner, Nancy had looked back. Her blue eyes locked onto his and he felt his heart speed up.

He needed to _move_, he needed to _party_, he needed to--

No. He needed to win Nancy Wheeler’s heart.

Win it he did, at seventeen years old. She had soft lips and huge eyes. Steve didn't even mind if she didn't want to have sex with him. Just being with her, holding her, kissing her pink lips was okay. Hell, it was _amazing_. Nancy was an angel.

He still always needed to move. He always wanted to party. He still wanted to fuck away the pain of the empty house. But with Nancy by his side, it was okay. He felt okay. He believed he was going to make it.

Something Steve discovered in horror a few days later was that Nancy wasn't as angelic as she seemed. The girl was tough. His face was stinging from the slap he received after spray painting her name on the movie theatre, but maybe it was because Jonathan Byers, that freak, had totally won that fucking fight and he _hated _it.

Another thing he discovered a little while later was that Nancy Wheeler wasn't a perfect angel, and that Jonathan Byers wasn't _weak_. He walked in at the wrong time and came face to face with horrific monster with a fucking flower-petal head.

He didn't need to move. He didn't need to party. He didn't need to fuck away the pain or win Nancy’s heart. Instead, he stood deathly still, horrified, convinced he was going to die as the faceless creature towered over him, its flower-petal face opening up to reveal rows of teeth, dripping with blood—

He tried to erase the rest of the night from his memory, but it was carved into his head like it was now a part of him. He remembered flashing lights. He remembered gunshots. He remembered the feeling of a bat full of nails in his hands. But the memories blurred together, making it impossible to tell which came first and which came last. The night felt like drops of food dye in a bowl of water, making a blurry colour and a mess.

A mess it did make. He didn't expect to have crippling insomnia and nightmares every night. He didn't expect to flinch every time a light flickered. He was scared, _terrified _that the Demogorgan was going to come back to finish him off.

Steve wanted things to go back to normal. To parties, to drinking, to cigarettes and sex and numbness. Now, after the experiences of the upside-down, he felt _empty_. As if he was only half there. Now, he was so full of emotions and terror he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. He tried his best to comfort Nancy, attending dinners with Barb’s parents and hugging her, letting her hang out with Jonathan – even though he wasn't exactly a fan of the guy – and pressing kisses to her forehead whenever she got that dazed, out of it look in her eye. In fact, he wasn't sure she had even cried for months. She had swapped her feelings with Steve. Now he felt so much, and she felt so little.

Slowly, Steve and the rest of the Party and those who went through the same stuff learned to act normal again. Steve returned to drinking. Sometimes he borrowed his mother’s makeup to cover the eye-bags. Nancy and Jonathan were doing the same. Smiles became easier to fake, tears easier to hide. Steve felt like his emotions were killing him from the inside out.

So he had told Nancy he loved her. It had been a few months after the incident, and he had just driven her home after school. “I love you,” He said when she had gotten out of his car.

She said it back, voice soft, blue eyes glittering. He kissed her and drove away, resisting the urge to punch the air and whoop. At the same time, he wanted to cry. He wasn't sure why.

It was approaching the anniversary of Will’s disappearance when Billy Hargrove arrived in town. His cologne, tight jeans, and teased hair had captured the attention of most of the women in town. He caught Steve’s attention too. He wasn't sure what to do about that.

Steve wasn't sure about a lot of things.

Somehow he convinced Nancy to attend a Halloween party with him. The heat of the bodies pressed against him, the smell of vomit, alcohol, and weed, the thumping music and loud singalongs, it all felt so familiar to Steve when he entered the party. Billy Hargrove approached him, shirtless, with just a leather jacket thrown over him. His body was dripping with something shiny. Steve didn't know what – beer, maybe?

And his eyes were blue, so fucking blue. They seemed to glow in the dim light of the party. Brown met blue, pale met tan, Steve met Billy.

“Eat it, Harrington!” Somebody said. Steve took off his sunglasses, stared at Billy for a moment.

Then there it was. That feeling. The same one he had felt for Nancy, when she turned to look at him in the hallway. The tightness in his throat, the tingling sensation thumping in his heart. He studied every bit of Billy’s body that he could see, as discretely as he could. Rock hard chest, calloused hands, long eyelashes, curly blonde hair. Blue eyes. Gorgeous, bright, glowing blue eyes.

There was no time to figure out what that feeling in his chest was. He turned and followed Nancy, who had disappeared into the crowd. She was at the punch bowl, drinking a mysterious red liquid.

Sometime later in the night, Steve spilt the drink on Nancy’s shirt while trying to get her to stop drinking. He followed her up to the bathroom.

“_You don’t love me?”_

“_Its _bullshit_.”_

Steve left the party early. Not once had he left a party before eleven pm, yet there he was, driving home with frustrated tears running down his face. Some kids in costumes ran across the road, forcing Steve to skid to a stop. He let out a frustrated shout and hit his horn, watching as they jumped. “Fucking move it!” He screamed at them. “Brats!”

His house was once again empty when he got home. The silence was deafening. He threw himself onto his bed and buried himself amongst the covers, desperately begging himself to not let anymore tears fall. His body refused to abide by his request, and soon, his pillow was soaking wet and the only sound he could hear was the shuffling of his blankets and loud, messy sobs.

_Bullshit._

_Bullshit._

_Bullshit._

“Bullshit,” He murmured, pulling the covers back to stare up at the ceiling. The cold air felt refreshing against his tear-soaked face. “I’m not bullshit.”

_Bullshit._

“I’m not bullshit,” He told nobody. “You’re bullshit, Nancy Wheeler. You’re fucking bullshit.”

Somehow, Steve managed to adopt a gaggle of weird children a few days later. After dealing with monsters from the upside-down a second time, Steve’s insomnia only got worse. He avoided Nancy at all costs, because she had that pitying, sad look in her eye when she looked at Steve’s tired face. He drove the kids too and from school, and let them hang around at his place. The house wasn't quiet when they were around. With the sound of their laughter, and hushed whispers, and singing along to some songs, the house was nice and loud. It was easier for him to sleep when that happened. He curled up with his shoes on, because you never knew know when you need to run, and closed his eyes.

Nightmares haunted him. Nightmares of the demo-dogs, of the Demogorgan, of the tunnels and the lab forced him to wake up sweating and panting, a scream tearing up his throat. When that happened, Steve chainsmoked until he felt tired again.

The snowball, a stupid dance that Steve remembered from when _he _was thirteen, rolled around. Dustin wanted Steve to drive him. Steve agreed.

With extra time on his hands and Nancy’s smile burned into his memory, Steve drove out of the parking lot and to the highest place around the town.

The quarry.

There he sat, alone, with the nail-bat in his hands and his heart pumping at every sound. He wasn't sure if he cared whether a demo-dog got him or not. Maybe it would be easier, he decided. Maybe it would be easier not to exist.

Loud music approached and he had tensed, recognising the sound of Billy’s car. The camaro drew to a stop beside his and the unmistakable sound of Billy slamming shut his cars door followed.

“Harrington. Whatcha doing out here?”

Billy’s voice didn't sound amused, or flirty, like it usually did. It was more a mix of curiosity and worry. Steve sighed, watching as Billy approached him.

“Not sure. Just wanted a bit of fresh air, I guess.”

Steve wanted to move, he wanted to party, he wanted to fuck away the pain and he wanted to do all of those things with Billy Hargrove. The blonde’s eyes had seemed to glow in the dim moonlight as he plucked a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

The two boys shared a lot of secrets, cigarettes, and worries that night. Billy revealed he heard things in his head – things that weren't entirely normal. Steve revealed his insomnia and constant fear.

As to why he told Billy all those things, and listened as Billy discussed his own woes, Steve wasn't sure. But he was never really one to question things he didn't understand. Best just to sit back and watch as the world passed by.

Billy and Steve managed to fix their relationship a little. It went from worst enemies, to acquaintances, to maybe even friends. Billy bought some booze, he shared it with Steve. Steve scored some weed, he shared it with Billy, and so on.

One thing Steve liked about Billy was how loud the boy was. He drowned out Steve’s thoughts with his loud music and laughter, with his singing and sarcastic comments. He never gave Steve enough time to sit back and reflect what was wrong with him. Steve wasn't even sure that Billy knew he was helping him in such a way. Whenever Steve started to feel sad, Billy found something to amuse him with.

Once, Billy threw himself under the bus when Steve got caught by Jim Hopper with a joint in his hands. Twice, they got arrested for spray painting walls around the town. Countless times, Steve felt little pangs of happiness in his heart when he looked at Billy that he couldn't explain.

There was a thumping in his chest, faster than it had ever been before, when Steve gave up on his charade of not liking Billy as more than a friend on a typical evening. The two boys had been high as fuck off weed… Well, actually, that wasn't true. Steve wasn't really high. More… Feeling a little in the moment. _Billy _was definitely high. High Billy was hungry, grumpy, and full of questions about the world. Never before had Steve listened to someone talk that much about stars.

Steve, who definitely wasn't high – he _wasn't_, okay? – decided at that moment that Billy’s lips looked so delicious he just couldn't help himself. As Billy lied down beside him, one hand tucked underneath the pillow and the other resting close to Steve’s own hand, there was a pang of desire in Steve’s chest.

Billy’s eyes were unfocused as he stared blankly at Steve. There was a flash of what looked like pain in his eyes, and, unless Steve was mistaken, _want_.

Steve needed to _move_, he needed to _party_, he needed to _fuck away the pain _and he needed Billy’s lips on his that very moment. He lunged forward, grabbing Billy’s shirt and twisting it tightly as he tugged the blonde towards him. Their lips moved together in a sloppy dance, teeth clashing for a few seconds before Steve calmed down. His movements began less desperate, less hungry, and he slowed down a little.

There were hands on his chest, causing Steve to move forward at their warmth, only to be pushed backwards. Billy looked breathless, shocked, but fortunately not angry. “What the hell,” He croaked out. “What the fucking hell, Harrington.”

The questions came out like sentences. Steve got the feeling Billy didn't want an answer. “I...” Steve fumbled for his words, unsure what to say. He decided on an awkward laugh and “Fuck man, I’m so fucking stoned. Sorry, that was dumb.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it fucking was.”

Steve waited for the anger, for the screaming, for the homophobic words and hatred spat at him. Instead, there was nothing but calmness as he watched Billy gather his things.

Billy left.

He didn't slam the door behind him. Somehow that was worse than anger.

Steve curled up underneath his blankets, listening to the silence of the house and ringing in his ears.

The next day, Steve received a call from Maxine, Billy’s little sister. “Billy didn't come back last night,” She was saying, talking nearly too quickly for Steve to understand. “I need you to go find him. I think he’s gone back to California, to his boy-- Um. To his mum.”

“Its okay. I’ll find him,” Steve promised, grabbing his keys and hanging up on her. He drove around town for a few minutes before dropping by the diner and picking up two coffees. He figured Billy would need one… If he found him.

A few blocks away from Old Cherry Road, Steve spotted Billy’s familiar blue camaro. He parked a few metres away from it and walked over, Billy’s coffee clutched in his hands.

Inside, Steve could see Billy sleeping, curled up in the drivers seat with his denim jacket wrapped tightly around him. His hair was messy and frizzed, some of it sticking to his face. Steve let out a little laugh and tapped on the window, startling the boy awake. Billy looked around for a moment, the jacket falling to the ground as he did, before he caught Steve’s eyes. He sighed loudly and dramatically, causing Steve to roll his eyes, and unlocked the door.

“Look, about yesterday,” Steve had said a few moments later. “I get you’re not into guys, so--”

“There was a boy. Back in Cali. I loved him. I – fuck – I still _do_. But I broke his heart because my dad found out about us. I don't want to do the same to you.”

Billy looked up then, his eyelashes long and curled, his eyes reflecting off the morning sun. “I’m just scared...” He whispered. His stare suddenly hardened. “And if you tell anyone I just said that then I’ll gut you in your sleep, Harrington.”

Steve smiled, listening as the blonde continued to speak.

“But I’m scared about hurting people. I’m scared about… About them leaving and never coming back. I’m scared about my dad finding out that I like you. I’m scared because I spent so long not feeling anything except for when I was with Tyler, and then I come here, and suddenly I’m feeling _so _many fucking _feelings_, and I _hate _it. I’m a mess, Steve. I’m a fucking mess. A fucked up mess.”

Steve sat back in his seat, running Billy’s words through his head. _Yeah_, he had thought. _You’re such a mess and… And yet I still love you_. “I like you, even as a mess. I know you’re fucked up. So am I. So are a lot of the people I know. And its _okay_, Billy. Lets be messes together.”

“Fuck,” Billy had said, his voice cracking as he stared directly into Steve’s brown eyes. Steve stared back. “Okay. Let’s be messes together.”

Billy and Steve both drove separately back to Steve’s big, empty, echoing house and parked their cars outside. They barely managed to get up to Steve’s bedroom before they were ripping each others clothes off. At one point, Steve had had to pull away when he heard the loud _rip _of his striped sweater. He turned and looked down at Billy, who was sitting on the bed with a piece of blue and white striped fabric in his hands. “Shit,” The blonde had said, grinning. “Oh no. The sweater I hate is ruined. It has to go.”

Steve rolled his eyes and crawled back on top of Billy.

The rest of the night had been a blur. Hot skin against his, panting breath. Messy kisses. Tangled sheets. Suppressed words. It was impossible to tell where Steve’s body ended and Billy’s started. They moved together like a dance, fit together like a puzzle.

And finally, there was a night of sleep unlike any other since Steve had encountered the horrors of the upside-down. He woke up once during the night, hazy from the strangely peaceful dream he had been having, and rolled over to find Billy murmuring things in his sleep. Steve had moved closer to him and pressed a kiss against the blonde’s forehead. “I love you.”

Those three little words were the same ones he whispered to Billy every single night the boy was over, once the blonde was asleep. The very same words he had been repeating in his head since that night at the quarry. He whispered them whether Billy was over or not, listening as they hovered in the air for a second before fading away. He liked to imagine Billy saying them back to him. Even though Steve had been sure Billy never would.

Steve had been wrong, just like he was about too many things. Billy had whispered them back merely five weeks later. “I love you too,” The blonde had said, eyes glistening with tears, body covered in bruises from Neil.

Steve wanted to _move_, he wanted to _party_, he wanted to _fuck away the pain_, but instead of doing all of those things, he just smiled. The storm inside him was dying as he pressed his forehead against Billy’s, happiness swelling up in his chest.

A few months later, Steve graduated high school, Billy grinning at him like a lunatic from the crowd. Steve had wanted to run up to him and spin him around until they were both laughing, but instead he gave him a quick fist bump as he passed. Later that night, their illusion of friendship died as their bodies connected in the quiet safety of Steve’s bedroom.

When Steve was away from Billy, Steve felt as if the restlessness inside him was beginning to develop again. Every hour spent at his job, away from the grumpy guy he loved, caused him to constantly tap and move and talk, trying to convince the clock to move quicker. Robin, a girl he worked with, raised her eyebrows and asked him if he was okay. “Maybe you have ADHD,” She had told him when Steve explained it was hard to sit still. Steve had only hummed thoughtfully.

Every night, curled up safely in bed with Billy, Steve’s storm disappeared. He felt as if he could spend centuries with Billy. Hell, they could be doing the most boring thing in the world and time would still fly, as long as Billy was with him.

There were so many differences between Billy and Steve. Billy liked to sleep, Steve liked to be awake. Billy liked vegetables, Steve liked fruit. Billy solved his problems with violence, Steve sold his with his words. Yet they fit together like a puzzle, their love for each other blurring the rest of the world.

Steve loved Billy.

He would never move again as long as Billy was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm going to be honest here. I started working on this ages ago, just after I posted Billy's oneshot. But I got writers block, and put it off for agessssss. I'm sorry, guys.  
Anyway, here's the finished result!  
My Tumblr is xxlost-in-starsxx if you wanted to give me a follow. No pressure though, lol.


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